One Good Reason
by Anakin
Summary: TRORY! Tristan loves Rory. He knows it. Only thing is, can he give her and himself one good reason why he deserves to be part of her life, much less her heart?
1. Tristan's Wants

All characters are property of the WB. Don't sue, I have nothing you would want anyway. I hope ya'll enjoy it, and feel free to IM or email me at anytime! I'd love to talk with fellow Gilmore Girl fans!!  
  
Authors Note: This chapter is Tristans feelings, the way his mind works and how he felt during the first year at Chilton, dealing with Rory. It should be good, I hope ya'll enjoy it, and feel free to IM or email me at anytime! I'd love to talk with fellow Gilmore Girl fans!!  
  


Chapter 1  
  


Damn her for being so beautiful.   
  
Not that that would change anything. He loved everything about her, not just her looks. She was so smart, so witty. He couldn't wait for the next moment to tease her, just to get some snappy come back in return. That was partly the reason he was so interested in her. She was his equal. She was his equal in everything. Looks, personality, intelligence, wit. Everyone knew that Tristan Du Grey was the school catch, and everyone wanted a piece of him. Except her.  
  
Damn her for that as well.  
  
Slamming his locker shut, Tristan took one final look around Chilton High. Tomorrow he's be back here again, but he wanted to remember it the way it looked today. The day she wasn't there. It seemed dim, almost fuzzy to him. He knew it was all in his head, or his heart for that matter.  
  
She had been sick. He could tell the few days before when he sat behind her, hearing her soft sniffles and watching her rub her temples. Rory was hardly ever sick, and the fact that she was sick so close to Christmas break worried him. Would she be better for Christmas, or worse? Would her Christmas be just as bad as his were every year? Shaking his head, he rubbed the sore muscles on the back of his neck. Of course it could never be as bad as his. Her mother, her family, her friends, they'd all be there with her on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. Bringing her something to drink if her throat hurt, wrapping her up in a blanket if she was cold. It wouldn't matter to them if she had a cold. Christmas was Christmas no matter what at the Gilmore house, he was sure.  
  
Making his way towards his car, he couldn't help but feel slightly jealous of her. What she didn't have that he did didn't matter. He had the money, the big houses. He had the luxury of never having to worry about his life, about not being able to support himself. He had the popularity and the power at Chilton, he never had to worry about teasing or being challenged. So what was it all worth? He could have had all the money in the world, and yet he'd still trade it in for a life like Rory Gilmore's. An hour in a life like Rory Gilmore.  
  
Damn her for that too!  
  
He opened his car door and threw his items in the back seat. He was doing it again. Being a jerk. Stepping inside the car, he put the keys in the ignition and started the car, finding a soft peace within it's comforting and rhythmic hum. He wasn't normally a jerk -wait, he wasn't normally a jerk inside. On the outside he presented himself to be confident, cocky, God amongst all teenagers. All of it was a front. He found that if you acted confident, you would soon be confident. It didn't matter that that confidence came from a string of heartbroken girls and pats of approval on the back from his friends. Over the years of being the prize at Chilton, his inside had began to turn as cold as his front was. All fake, all empty. He didn't even realize it until she came into the picture.  
  
God, he could still remember that day. The day he first saw her. Her eyes, her frustrated look. The soft brown hair that fell over her shoulders softly. The way she twisted her lips slightly when she talked. Back then he hadn't realized he had been etching all those things in his memory, but he knew whenever he looked back and he could see everything so perfectly. So, he loved her.  
  
She hated him.  
  
The moment the words came out of her mouth, they seemed to punch him straight in the guts. He could feel the aching deep within his stomach. It felt like a poll vaulter had jammed it's poll straight into his ball and made his leap straight into his heart, crashing it into a million pieces. It was the same feeling you get when going on a rollercoaster, the feeling of all your insides being shoved back and forth inside you. The emptiness, the coldness. Shivering slightly at the memory, Tristan turned on the radio and did his best to ignore the returning ache in his chest.  
  
Just as he had the first day she came into his life, he had etched everything from that afternoon last summer in his mind. The angry look on her face, the frustrated and at end expression in her eyes. All he had wanted was for her to join him at the concert. Granted, he wasn't doing the best job of _inviting _her. He realized now that maybe if he had just asked, and not demanded, that he would have gotten his wish. It was a long shot, but a better one then the turn out of "I hate you."  
  
He felt a slight twinge of jealously as he remembered how her faced slightly brightened when she saw Dean standing next to his truck. The sudden fear that leaped into her eyes as she saw him turn and make his way to the door.  
  
_"Cause I love you, idiot."  
  
_She _loved _him. The world that had tumbled under him moments before had now turned into mounds of murky shit, swallowing him whole, surrounding him completely. Not only had she said she hated him, but said she loved Dean.  
  
"Go, Rory. Two strong emotions in one day. Lucky you."  
  
Groaning, he mentally slapped himself.  
  
"Knock it off. You're just beating yourself up for nothing. You're just being an asshole."  
  
But she had that control over him. The mind numbing way of causing all his thoughts and actions to fumble, crash and then burn. He always had to make his mind work double time around Rory. Forcing himself to stay on track, never stutter, never falter. Practically impossible he knew, but he managed to pull it off. Every nice thing he ever wanted to say to her was replaced by the little 3rd grader inside him, telling him to pull her hair and call her a butthead. No one had ever had that kind of control on him before. No other girl clouded his mind when he saw her, twisted his words when he spoke to her, made his body so tense when he tried to walk to her. Now out of no where he had to find a way to deal with this, and find away to get back under control.  
  
That's where Summer came in. Yeah, she was beautiful. That was about all he could say about her. The fact that she had a low brain cell count and an even lower IQ had made it easier for him to push aside his feelings for Rory for just a little awhile. Summer and Rory were nothing alike, and that's why he needed Summer so badly. He didn't need Summer in the way Rory thought he did that night at the party. He didn't love her, he barely cared for her at all. Summer made his mind clear, made him able to see.  
  
And then she bailed on him, and he had gone and kissed Rory. Oh, God her lips were so soft. So gentle, so smooth under his own. It only lasted seconds, but it manages to go on in his head for eternity, playing over and over again. He could feel the heat radiating off her body, her soft tremble as she let herself go and fall into his kiss. The way her lips moved against his barely, making just the softest bit of friction. Then she tensed, and he watched as the tears welled up in those blue eyes and before he knew it, she was gone.  
  
Since then there was a constant strain. Off and on they were together. Friends one minute, complete enemies the next. He did his best to act right around her, tease her just enough to get a reaction, frustrate her enough just to see the soft glow of fire in her eyes. He did his best to make sure his friends never spoke about her behind her back, that Paris and her gang of prissies left her alone, and it had worked a little bit, but he wasn't around all the time and things can always be said when he can't hear them. He knew a new Tristan was breaking it's way through the old, and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that yet, but if it meant Rory would look at him in another way, he'd be willing for this change.  
  
Pulling into the long driveway of his house, he parked his car and stepped out, throwing his bag over his shoulder and made his way towards the front door. His house was nothing less than beautiful. The outside was built to make the inside look bigger, not that it needed it anyway. Pillars stood near the front steps, followed by white and glass French doors, that set the mood for the rest of his house. Although it was beautiful, and he was sure many other kids would have loved to live there, he could hardly stand it. Everytime he walked in, he felt he should be whispering, never talking. He shouldn't touch anything, keep his hands in his pocket and walk straight ahead. This house wasn't lived in, this house was showed off. It was like living in a museum. Constantly cold, constantly kept in perfect condition. His room was the only one that looked lived in, but it barely made it. Even if he did have all the money in the world when he moved out, he would never buy a house like this. Ever.  
  
He made his way up to his room and placed his bag neatly by his desk before plunging himself down atop his bed. He rubbed his eyes, doing his best to rid them of their need to sleep and placed his hands behind his head. Rory seemed to be on his mind every house of every day now, and he wasn't sure if it bothered him.  
  
In the year and a half they had known each other, they have had so many ups and downs he couldn't count them all. He was sure deep down that she had no clue of his true feelings for her and for the time being that was just how it was going to stay. Until he could find away back into her life, he wouldn't let any emotion fall in the way. He had to be in her life again, or he felt he would slowly fade away into a pathetic foolish boy. He was drowning in her, and he needed her to save him.


	2. Rory's Needs

Chapter 2  
  


She was going to be in so much trouble.  
  
For the first time in a very long time, Rory Gilmore had missed a day of school. Not only had she missed a day of school, she'd miss a day of school at Chilton. She didn't even want to think of what she'd have to deal with when she went back tomorrow. Nazi teachers, and a back up of homework that would scale a week of homework in any normal school. She couldn't help it though. She had woken up with a splitting headache, that very shortly after turned into a full blown migraine. Her vision in her left eye was completely gone, and she had managed to bump into every wall, sharp corner and piece of furniture on her left. That wasn't the end of it though. With a migraine usually comes much more than a killer headache. Throughout the day she had vomited so many times she lost count, and all she wanted to do was sleep.  
  
Sleep, of course, never came.  
  
Rory Gilmore wasn't lucky enough for an easy way out such as sleep at the moment. Her thoughts had to be preoccupied with school and overly dramatic thoughts of being held back, or kicked out because of this one day missed. She knew she was being paranoid, that she would be fine and she would be able to make up whatever tests and assignments that were handed out today, but the small twinge of guilt still lingered in the back of her head. She should have just gone to school.  
  
And puked on everyone. That possible public humiliation wasn't nearly as bad as any other she could think of at the moment, and at least she could aim it at someone. Paris perhaps would be a good choice. She smiled softly at the thought, sure she would be laughed at and probably called stupid childish names like "Regurgitation Rory", or "Upchucker", but that didn't matter. Her breakfast would have been blanketed all over Paris, and she would have to stand there, fighting the urge to throw up herself. That could even be better, if Paris actually did spew all over the cafeteria, and have it land straight on Tristan.  
  
She rubbed her forehead and made a small groan. This must be a really bad migraine if she couldn't think of anything better than daydreaming of starting a vomit party at her school's cafeteria. It still would be pretty cool.  
  
Forcing herself into a sitting position, she pulled her blankets with her and wrapped them around her slender shoulders. The worst part of the migraine was over. She no longer felt like chucking herself off a bridge, and her vision was back. The small, annoying throb of a headache still remained, but compared to the 'ax buried deep in her scull' like feeling that she had before, the throb was a definite welcome.   
  
Pushing herself off the bed, she made her way out her door and into the kitchen. The thought of food still made her stomach do flips, so she settled for a rather large glass of water. She had been lazy enough today, she had to get out and do something. Take a shower and go into town or something. She had to admit, the thought of wasting a completely good sick day on staying in doors and laying in bed sounded pretty lame. She was after all, a 16 year old girl, and all 16 year olds wanted extra time off from school. She had already finished all her homework from the day before, and thought of studying made her the aching inside her head pound harder in protest. So she decided to chuck it all aside and be normal for once. She was feeling better, and the crisp air outside would most likely her feel much better.  
  
Throwing the blanket on the couch, she made her way upstairs and into the bathroom. A quick shower and then she'd be on her way. She undressed gingerly and stepped inside the shower. Turning the water on a little hotter than she normally would, she let her head rest against the tile walls and allowed the water to stream down her neck and back. Slowly, she could feel the remaining traces of her sickness dripping out of her. The kinks in her neck and tense muscles in her shoulders slowly faded away, leaving nothing but a content relaxing laying upon her.  
  
No one could deny that any teenage life was hard. Growing up and learned the facts of life was never any fun, and no one took any joy in having to learn while getting their highschool education, and discovering the birds and the bees. Life at Chilton was tough. The work was doubled, the tests were harder. The kids were more cruel and the teachers were less sympathetic. It didn't help that she didn't have any friends there, and that towards the end of each day she'd watch the clock in her glass, counting down the seconds till it was time for the bell to ring and she could leave. The one hour drive there and back was never a big problem with her though, because she could always manage to finish some homework assignments or catch up on her reading.  
  
Then there was Dean. Sometimes she wondered exactly why she told him she loved him. Inside, she knew she cared deeply for him, and that he would always share a special place inside of her heart because of all the things they had experienced together. But love? That was huge, and you don't just go flinging those words around like they're unimportant. So, did she love Dean? Yes, in a way. The way that you love your best friend. She supposed the only reason she had said she loved him on that day was because she was tired. Tired of the pity looks, tired of the worried glances. Tired of doing her best to avoid him. She was tired of being alone. So, she said what she knew would get him back into her arms and it had worked. She knew it was what he wanted to hear, and it would be all he needed to hear for them to be back together.  
  
She just threw the words around like they were nothing. She felt guilty. Knowing each day after that, he believed he was in love, and that she was in love back. Could she have done anything worse to hurt him?  
  
Obviously they meant a great deal to him, but that was almost 6 months ago. She could tell he didn't look at her the same way. They had become a routine around each other. Everyday, every week, the same things, over and over. God, why did she say she loved him?  
  
Why did she say she hated Tristan?  
  
Again, she only said it cause she knew it would make Dean happy. Knew Dean would believe that. And again, it had worked. She had managed to hide her sideways glances towards Tristan as Dean hugged her to him, and she felt as if she was going to burst. She had just lied, twice and she was hurting both of them. Tristan's hurt was instant, Dean's was progressive. Rory Gilmore was dangerous when it came to feelings, she decided, and the best thing to do would be to get out of an already dying relationship, and stay out of relationships until she was able to handle them.  
  
She wasn't blind to the fact that Tristan was beautiful. She was a girl and she did have eyes, and anyone with eyes could see that Tristan was extremely attractive, she just had a way of hiding that face inside her. Witty comebacks and sarcastic lies were always good at keeping on lookers in confusion when it came to her feelings for Tristan. Of course, there was the small fact that her feelings for Tristan were complete mush inside her, and she herself had no clue what they were. There was good somewhere in Tristan. Somewhere hidden behind the mounds of ego, anger and fear.  
  
If only someone could save him from it.  
  
  
  



	3. Damn Mornings

  


Chapter 3  
  


  
She made her way down the Chilton halls, oblivious of those around her. The small lingering of her headache was still teasing her mind, and the last thing she wanted was to pay anyone who might give her a worse one any attention. Not that they deserved it anyway. She loved Chilton, actually. She loved the challenge it gave her, even though it drove her crazy a lot of the time. She enjoyed the surroundings of Chilton, especially during fall, when there were leaves on the ground and it gave the already old fashioned school just that certain something that made it seem timeless. Although, she couldn't be that enthusiastic about all those who attended. Of course, not everyone here was of the evil gene pool. There were the few teachers she actually enjoyed listening too, and the few students she didn't mind smiling at in the halls, but that's about it.  
  
If she thought about it too much, it tended to scare her. The people in this school, included all the evil ones, would end up being our nations new leaders. Our lawyers, our doctors. Who would let such madness accrue in this world? She doubted they would if they had any clue as to what kind of doctors and lawyers they were bringing up. Is it written somewhere that if you are born into a rich family, you must grow up to be a complete asshole?  
  
"Hello, Rory."  
  
She groaned mentally and forced herself not to roll her eyes. She looked longingly at her first period door, wishing the call had come moments later, when she was safely inside. Turning slowly on her heel, she met Paris's dark eyes.  
  
"Good morning Paris. How are you today? Eat your Cheerios and all? Breakfast is the most important meal of the day you know. I heard people get really crabby when they don't eat breakfast."  
  
"Save it. Did you finish your column for the paper. It's due today."   
  
She watched as Paris clung her books to her chest and glanced up at her, fidgeting slightly.  
  
"Finished it last night. No need to worry."  
  
Paris grinned slightly, her mouth twitching. "I wasn't worried. In fact, I was hoping you did forget. That way you'd be off the team, or back to doing parking lots and lunch menus. No such luck, I see. There's always next week." She nodded over her shoulder, and brushed past Rory, her two groupies tailing behind her. Only then did Rory allow her self the pleasure of rolling her eyes, finding it amusing that such a small act can retrieve such great pleasure. She sighed deeply and turned again, making her way towards first period. She loved this class, European Literature. It was hard, and you had to read over things a few times just to understand it, but it was interesting, very easy to get into.  
  
Slowly she made her way to her desk, avoiding eye contact with Paris and her groupies and sat down, setting her bag next to her desk. Reaching over, she pulled her binder and notebook out of her bag, and reached down for her book, only to find air. Opening her bag wider, she filed through her books, mentally praying she didn't forget it at home. Snapping her shut with a groan, she began to push her self up from her desk to go retrieve it out of her locker when the bell rang. Her eyes widened in horror, realizing that now she was trapped in class, with no book. Sitting in the back, possibly the teacher wouldn't notice but he tended to wonder through out the isles of desks and sooner or later would find out she hadn't brought her book. She closed her eyes briefly, hoping that when she opened them it would have all been a nightmare. No book would mean detention most likely, and that meant another hour at Chilton with the worst of the worse. Slowly, the lowered herself back into her seat and opened her eyes. The morning was already turning out to be terrible, she couldn't even imagine what the rest of her day would be like.  
  
"Class, I hope you all did your homework from yesterday, of course I don't care. It's your grade. Pass them forward, please. Then I will ask you to read pages 105-145 of your text book while I look these tests over, and read carefully please, we will be discussing this in class today." He raised a bushy eyebrow at the class, as if challenging them to be stupid enough to disobey.  
  
Slipping the homework paper out of her binder, then pasted it to the awaiting hand in front of her and slumped back into her seat. Great, no only was she going to get detention, but she was going to miss out in the discussion, and in this class you were graded in participation.  
  
"Miss Gilmore? I really hate to break you out of your day dream, seeing that this is first period and all but, please, do try and keep yourself focused on your reading. And to think, it might even be easier to read with your book out and open. Hmm?" He placed and old hand upon his chin and grinned down at her. The class looked at her and chuckled slightly.  
  
Biting her lip slightly, she managed to pull herself up into a reasonable sitting position and gathered her pride. "I'm sorry, Mr. Monroe, I think I forgot my book in my locker this morning."  
  
He raised an eyebrow at her and rolled himself on his heels. "You _think _you've forgotten it in your locker?"  
  
"Well, sir, I haven't been there this morning because I thought I had my first 3 period books in my bag but when I opened it this morning the other two were there, but not first period. So it's either in my locker or at home. I'm really sorry, I really thought I put it in there." She swallowed, and found it difficult to do so.  
  
Mr. Monroe smiled at her slightly, his eyes showing a slight playfulness. "You know, if you miss your responsibilities, no matter how big or small, there are always consequences. Correct?" He stated, folding his arms over his chest and staring down at her.   
  
She could feel her cheeks begin to redden as the entire class now had their eyes resting on her, enjoying the early morning entertainment. Unable to find her voice, she just nodded.  
  
He nodded slowly and smiled at her. "In this case, the consequence is detention. Today, my class, at 3:00. You are free of course?"  
  
Again she nodded and did her best to hide her annoyance.  
  
"Hmm, good. Until then, you'll share books with Mr. Du Grey. Please move your desk next to his, and behave."  
  
Again, the class chuckled and continued to do so until Mr. Monroe clapped his hands. Blinking her eyes slowly, she forced her mind to work at a quicker pace. Mr. Du Grey. Du Grey. Tristan Du Grey. Raising her eyes to the desk next to hers, her eyes met with another set of baby blues, looking straight down at her. The soft rays of sunlight bounced off his now much thicker hair, and trailed over his tanned cheeks. She watched as his eyes slowly moved over her, looking her over and she could help but blush. She watched his lips as he smirked, one end moving up slightly in that unnerving grin he had possessed. Moving her eyes up slowly, over his cheeks and his nose and directly into his eyes, she was surprised to find no amusement there.  
  
"Miss Gilmore, now." The scratchy voice penetrated her thoughts. Swallowing deeply, she moved her desk over to his as quickly and as quietly as she could and sat down at his right side. Without a word, he set his book in-between their desks and let his chin rest easily in his left hand and look directly in the book.  
  
_What? No 'Good morning, Mary.'? No nothing?  
  
_Her forehead scrunched up in confusion as she watched his, uninterested in the book in front of her. He hadn't even said anything to her this morning. Not even a small tease or a witty banter.  
  
What the hell was wrong with everything this morning?  
  
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He forced the small tingle of butterflies in this stomach to stop their fluttering and give it a rest. He could feel her looking at him though, and he could picture her blue eyes staring intently at him, wondering. Of course, whenever he wanted her to stare at him it was impossible to have it so, and now, after everything, he wished nothing more than for her to pay attention to the assignment.   
  
It bothered him that she was looking at him like this. He forced his eyes to stay on the book in front of him and not look over at her, stare into her eyes. Unnerve her the way she was unnerving him. Damn her!  
  
He sighed deeply and fidgeted. Wrinkling his nose slightly, he popped his neck and hopped that would be enough to break her out of her little trace of wonderance.  
  
_Come on Rory, lay off.  
  
_But of course, she didn't. She had the unbelievable way of ignoring the obvious, unknowing of exactly what she did to him. He swallowed and raised his eyes towards the ceiling.  
  
"Rory, Mr. Monroe is going to kill you and eat you for lunch if you don't start reading. I'm sure it's hard, but tear your eyes away from my face, and pay attention." He stated sternly, looking over at her for the first time since she sat down. Her eyes widened in the fact that she had been caught. Her cheeks reddened just the slightest, before she quickly looked down at the book in front of her.  
  
He nodded to himself and looked back at the book as well.  
  
_Now, I can get some work done.  
  
_Slowly, he read the words in front of him, making sure his mind stayed exactly where it should. The task at hand, European Literature. Reading this page. Forgetting the scent of the girl sitting so closely next to him.  
  
He snapped his eyes quickly and sighed.  
  
_Don't tell yourself to forget, dumbass. Then you'll remember that you're supposed to be forgetting her, bring your mind right back at her, and then it'll just be some evil cycle and you'll never get anything done for the rest of your life!  
  
_He bit his perfectly pinked lip and forced himself to read. Boring, boring, boring. Usually this class interested him, one of his favorites actually, but today he just couldn't get into it. Sighing to himself again, he leaned into her closer and lowered his head.  
  
"Are you feeling better?" He asked in a barely audible whisper. He watched as her head slowly turned to look in his directly, the slight showings of shock.  
  
"What?" She responded in the same tone.  
  
"Yesterday. You weren't here. I assumed you were sick. Are you feeling better?" He asked again, flicking his eyes to the front of the class to make sure Mr. Monroe wasn't paying them any attention. Thankfully, he wasn't and he turned his eyes back to Rory.  
  
He watched her neck as she swallowed, then trailed his eyes back up to hers. She nodded slowly. "Yes. I had a, um, migraine. One day kind of thing you know?" She nodded again, and looked up at him. He nodded his head slowly and searched his mind to find something to say.  
  
"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better."   
  
She smiled softly and he just barely managed to keep himself from groaning. "Thanks. And all it took was a day or moaning, groaning and throwing up. Then again, there's no better medicine, right? Gotta lay off the coffee."  
  
He giggled softly, surprising himself and apparently Mr. Monroe as well.  
  
"Is there something incredibly funny in your text book Mr. Du Grey? Would you mind telling us all what page so would have the pleasure of joining you in your amusement."  
  
Clearing his throat slightly, he sat up and looked at the teacher. "No sir, please excuse me. Just thinking about something."  
  
"Well, perhaps you wont mind staying in after school and thinking about it then, because it looks like you have a pretty heavy load to deal with now. 3:00, do not be late." Mr. Monroe finished sternly, flicking his eyes back down at the papers in front of him.  
  
Tristan lowered his head back to his book and sighed softly.  
  
"I'm sorry." He heard a small voice say beside him. He glanced up slowly and looked at her, forcing a small smile onto his lips.  
  
"Guess I'll see you after school."  
  
He returned his eyes back to his book, trying his best to ignore the burning sensation in his stomach. After school, stuck in class, and with Rory.  
  
This day couldn't get any worse. 


End file.
